The above picture was from a photo shoot I did as promotion for being the knew lead singer for a wee pop group called The Doors. The old lead singer faked his death in the 70's and moved to Canada.
We called this shoot 'The old lion' , I know you can't tell but as well as being high as a kite as us pop stars are I had to have my scrot tucked and stapled to my thighs as it hangs doon a bit too much, the shit I was on was good and I didn't feel a thing until a week later when it went septic. The 4 weeks that I rehearsed with the band were terrible, this guy Ray Manzarek thought he was incharge even though 'I' was the 'lead' singer he blocked all my ideas and requests. For a start I couldn't stop giggling through 'Back door man' and then I wanted to change 'People are strange' to 'People are fuckers' and to be a little more up to date instead of 'Hello I love you', I wanted to sing,' Wassssup, I think its love, baby', the kids would dig it. I wanted 'LA woman' to be 'Arbroath weemen' and to cut all that musical shite out of 'Light my fire'.
Things didn't really work, professional differences and the fact that though I look good I can't really sing, I mean worse than the last guy and that's something. Their loss, I mean where are they now?
So anyway I was just sitting here at the computer on a dull grey drepressing day hoping for some inspiration to strike. I was either going to write about my night of wild animal lust with Princess Anne in which I turned my athlete's foot into an STD or how I was fired from the Roundheads by old warty Oliver Cromwell himself because I refused to part with me foreskin, so my penis Kenny kept his flamboyant head covering and I joined the Cavaliers, not the best of career moves looking back on it.
I wasn't in the mood for either and I sensed my readers wanted not stories of my past glories but half naked weemen and midgets being fisted. I was like a sail without wind.
The clouds outside parted and the sun came like a God into my room , the vitamin D must of reacted with the painkillers I'm addicted to because I was suddenly in a good mood, for fuck sake, this feels odd I thought, I wanted to hug somebody, a gurl with huge knockers would of been nice. I then knew what to post about, I got the idea given to me like ' manners from Heaven ' as I basked in God's golden shower.
This is a positive post on why I like Blogs and Blogging.
I like the fact that Old Knudsen has saturated the Google search monster with his meaningless poison and when a pervert looks for 'Hot midget sex' they get a post on Tom and Katie. Old Knudsen one - other perverts nil.
My opinion is the only one that really makes sense or counts so I'm glad that its there sort of published for mankind so that *1000 people a day* can read my wisdom.
It makes me feel all warm in a nice dry way when people tell me about the crap day they were having until they read my ever so humorous post.
I'm glad the fan e-mails and the titty pictures out number the hate mail and death threats I get sent(my Ma sends titty pictures and death threats)
I am an artist and I know my work has been a success when I invoke emotion and passion in others enough to get an anonymous hateful comment.
Blogging is easier and faster than the shite I showed that I make on Old Fake Man Balls and posts are easier to destroy in a fit of artistic rage.
I meet people that I wouldn't want to meet in real life as they are quite creepy and I can just stop talking to them and start wanking to some porn. That's frowned upon in the real world out on the street or in my son's living room last week.
To be honest with the exception of **one person** that keeps commenting and being a cunt I love my readers.
I love that I can put up whatever I want and honour whoever I want depending on my whims and who dies.
Did ya hear that pop? I felt it go off in me neck, I think that's the end to my good mood and possibly a stroke, no I don't mean another wank, ok fuck the postive post, heres what I hate.
YouTubes, pretentious twats, black blogs, my sidebar slipping, Blogger fucking up after all this beta shit, wordpress, haloscan, humourless passionless people with Blogs, being thanked for a comment on another Blog, people being nice in the comments to be polite I clean my own ring and people nervous to comment incase I look at yer blog, what the fuck? you know I'm the best but I'll be polite, my greatness has its responsibilities.
*A guess a mated figure based on the invisible Blogliners and my ego*
**You're so vain, you probably think this comment is about you don't you don't you?**
We called this shoot 'The old lion' , I know you can't tell but as well as being high as a kite as us pop stars are I had to have my scrot tucked and stapled to my thighs as it hangs doon a bit too much, the shit I was on was good and I didn't feel a thing until a week later when it went septic. The 4 weeks that I rehearsed with the band were terrible, this guy Ray Manzarek thought he was incharge even though 'I' was the 'lead' singer he blocked all my ideas and requests. For a start I couldn't stop giggling through 'Back door man' and then I wanted to change 'People are strange' to 'People are fuckers' and to be a little more up to date instead of 'Hello I love you', I wanted to sing,' Wassssup, I think its love, baby', the kids would dig it. I wanted 'LA woman' to be 'Arbroath weemen' and to cut all that musical shite out of 'Light my fire'.
Things didn't really work, professional differences and the fact that though I look good I can't really sing, I mean worse than the last guy and that's something. Their loss, I mean where are they now?
So anyway I was just sitting here at the computer on a dull grey drepressing day hoping for some inspiration to strike. I was either going to write about my night of wild animal lust with Princess Anne in which I turned my athlete's foot into an STD or how I was fired from the Roundheads by old warty Oliver Cromwell himself because I refused to part with me foreskin, so my penis Kenny kept his flamboyant head covering and I joined the Cavaliers, not the best of career moves looking back on it.
I wasn't in the mood for either and I sensed my readers wanted not stories of my past glories but half naked weemen and midgets being fisted. I was like a sail without wind.
The clouds outside parted and the sun came like a God into my room , the vitamin D must of reacted with the painkillers I'm addicted to because I was suddenly in a good mood, for fuck sake, this feels odd I thought, I wanted to hug somebody, a gurl with huge knockers would of been nice. I then knew what to post about, I got the idea given to me like ' manners from Heaven ' as I basked in God's golden shower.
This is a positive post on why I like Blogs and Blogging.
I like the fact that Old Knudsen has saturated the Google search monster with his meaningless poison and when a pervert looks for 'Hot midget sex' they get a post on Tom and Katie. Old Knudsen one - other perverts nil.
My opinion is the only one that really makes sense or counts so I'm glad that its there sort of published for mankind so that *1000 people a day* can read my wisdom.
It makes me feel all warm in a nice dry way when people tell me about the crap day they were having until they read my ever so humorous post.
I'm glad the fan e-mails and the titty pictures out number the hate mail and death threats I get sent(my Ma sends titty pictures and death threats)
I am an artist and I know my work has been a success when I invoke emotion and passion in others enough to get an anonymous hateful comment.
Blogging is easier and faster than the shite I showed that I make on Old Fake Man Balls and posts are easier to destroy in a fit of artistic rage.
I meet people that I wouldn't want to meet in real life as they are quite creepy and I can just stop talking to them and start wanking to some porn. That's frowned upon in the real world out on the street or in my son's living room last week.
To be honest with the exception of **one person** that keeps commenting and being a cunt I love my readers.
I love that I can put up whatever I want and honour whoever I want depending on my whims and who dies.
Did ya hear that pop? I felt it go off in me neck, I think that's the end to my good mood and possibly a stroke, no I don't mean another wank, ok fuck the postive post, heres what I hate.
YouTubes, pretentious twats, black blogs, my sidebar slipping, Blogger fucking up after all this beta shit, wordpress, haloscan, humourless passionless people with Blogs, being thanked for a comment on another Blog, people being nice in the comments to be polite I clean my own ring and people nervous to comment incase I look at yer blog, what the fuck? you know I'm the best but I'll be polite, my greatness has its responsibilities.
*A guess a mated figure based on the invisible Blogliners and my ego*
**You're so vain, you probably think this comment is about you don't you don't you?**
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